Strike a Match
by Glittering Pegasus
Summary: Sit down and enjoy Strike a Match, Californa's most popular dating show! On today's show, a strange twist of fate allows the paths of our two favorite CIA agents to cross again!
1. Weiss's Brilliant Idea

kk, this is an idea that just kinda hit me while watching some talk show. (i was extremely bored and there was nothing on, ok? lol) Anyway, my train of thought led to a dating game and fan fiction and syd/vaughn... needless to say my train of thought is a bit derailed. [pic]Anyway, i'll put it up in parts, here's part one. feedback please!  
  
PART ONE~ Vaughn's POV  
  
I. Hate. Water. I mean I really hate water. Water sucks. Whoever invented water should die. Wait... no one inveted water, did they? Oh, screw it. Point is, once it almost killed her. Now it almost killed me. In a sense, it did kill me.  
  
I haven't even seen her since I left Taipei. When Devlin found out about what I had done, following Sydney like that, the first thing he did was suspend me as her handler. And I didn't even get to be the one to tell her that. Her new handler, (a self centered jack-ass in my opinion) Jason Quigly, got the honor. And being the stubborn jerk that he is, I'm sure he didn't even bother telling Sydney that I'm alive.  
  
Okay, so technically she's not suppposed to know I'm alive until I'm reassigned as her handler, but still, couldn't he just...be human?  
  
"Mike, let it go. She'll find out soon," Weiss pressed when I told him all this at my apartment.  
  
"Not soon enough."  
  
Weiss sighed. "And what are you planning to do when she does? Sweep her up and give her a kiss?"  
  
I didn't answer that.  
  
"Dude, it won't change anything. You need to get her off your mind." He turned up the TV, which for some reason unknown to me was tuned in to a dating game.  
  
"Why are we watching this crap, Eric?" I groaned, reaching out to try and grab the remote. He pulled it back.  
  
"It's fun to laugh at," he protested. "Plus, some of the chicks are pretty good looking."  
  
"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered.  
  
The show host exclaimed, "Welcome to 'Strike a Match,' California's most popular dating game show where you pick your Fate! Now, let's meet today's bachelors and bacheloret!"  
  
The game worked like every other dating game show. The girl asks the three guys questions and picks her date based on their answers. Incredibly stupid if you ask me.  
  
When it was over, the only thing that kept me from smashing the TV was the host saying, "Our show two weeks from now will be in LA California. So, if you live in the Los Angeles area, are between the ages of 18 and 35, and would like to be a contestant on 'Strike a Match,' please come to Summerton Theater on Thursday September 3rd with and ID to audition-" Click. I changed the station to ESPN to watch the hockey game.  
  
"Eric, pass me a coke." No answer. "Eric?" I turned to see Weiss staring with a familiar glint in his eyes and a sly grin. Oh, no.  
  
"What? What brilliant idea do you have now?"  
  
"Man, between 18 and 35, in LA area... I see a major opportunity here."  
  
"No way! No way, man. I am not going on some shallow dating game just for your sick twisted amusement!"  
  
"Why, because you're too busy deciding how to 'handle' your former agent?"  
  
My heart leaped at the word 'former.' I couldn't find an answer for him. "N- no... I could date someone who isn't her..."  
  
"Prove it. Prove to me that you can get your mind off Sydney and focus on another girl."  
  
I sighed, knowing there was no way out of this one. Might as well defeat Weiss in his assumptions if I was going to have to do this. "Why the hell are you my best friend?" I wondered out loud.  
  
Weiss just shrugged and patted me on the back, wearing a satisfied smile.  
  
****************  
  
Reply please please please! 


	2. A Mission from Cupid

PART 2~ Syd's POV  
  
One Week after Auditions  
  
When I was in second grade, I had a goldfish. I called him Zeldo. Don't ask me where I came up with that name when I was eight years old. Anyway, I used to love Zeldo. Zeldo was my best friend. Whenever I came home from school, crying because Jimmy Thomas pulled my hair, Zeldo was right there, swimming around quietly in his bowl, waiting to help me get through it. But one day I came home and Zeldo was floating at the top pf his bowl.  
  
I wouldn't believe that he was really gone. I refused to believe it. I even left it in its bowl stinking up my room for two weeks because I wouldn't admit that he was really gone. But at night I would cry myself to sleep because I knew that I was kidding myself.  
  
Was this how it was with Vaughn? Something, a part of me knew he wasn't dead. I knew he was still alive to be my shoulder to cry on. But maybe this was just like my fish. Maybe I was in denial. Still, I kept onto the childhood hope that wishes could come true and he was still out there, waiting to give me my next 'Joey's Pizza' call.  
  
I spotted my father in the parking garage on the way in to Credit Dauphine. "Dad, Dad! Did they find out anything else?"  
  
He stopped and turned to face me. "Sydney, if I find out anything about Vaughn I'll tell you. I know just as little as you do."  
  
I nodded, unsatisfied. "Ok. It's just that this new handler... Quigley. He's such a... such an asshole."  
  
It could have been my imagination, but I thought I saw the slightest hint of a smile flicker across my dad's face. "Let's go. We have a meeting."  
  
Inside the briefing room, Sloane was waiting. He always kind of struck me as a villain from a 1920's silent film. Like he should be flicking a little curled mustache and donning a cape. I smirked at the thought and looked up at the screen where Sloane was pointing.  
  
"This is Angel Nunzeo. His name may sound innocent but he's far from it. He is a former agent here who 10 years ago retrieved a valuable artifact for us while on a mission, but ran off with it. We were unable to trace his whereabouts until just last week when we received intel that he has returned to LA, thinking that we'd forgotten about him," Sloane explained.  
  
I wonder what Sloane would do if he knew what I've been doing with his 'valuable artifacts.' Maybe he'd whip out a sword and cut a 'z' in me like Zorro. Zorro was always one of those 'cape and mustache' guys. Wait... wasn't he a good guy? Oh well.  
  
Sloane continued. "We found out that Nunzeo will be participating in the statewide dating game show, 'Strike a Match' under an alias. Sydney, you will also be on that game show as Lizzie Cohen. You get Nunzeo for us by, shall we say, winning the date with him."  
  
I nodded.  
  
Sloane gestured to Marshall. "Marshall?"  
  
He stood, holing up a pair of sapphire earrings. "These look like a nice pair of earrings, right? I mean, you could put them on with a dress or you know... whatever. They'd look very pretty on you, Agent Bristow. Anyway, really they each contain a tiny microphone that allows them to act like head phones. Just put them on and you can hear the person on the other end. Dixon will be able to tell you which lucky bachelor is the one to pick," Marshall explained, blushing. "However, you can't talk back so just listen closely."  
  
"Thank you Marshall," Sloane said.  
  
Before sitting down, Marshall added, "By the way, has anyone ever seen this show? Cause I have and... you know, it's pretty good. I think you'll have fun, Agent Bristow..." Seeing Sloane glaring at him, he quickly sat down.  
  
"Show's taping tomorrow at one o' clock. Good luck."  
  
I got up and left.  
  
A dating game show. So this is what my super spy life has been reduced to. 


	3. Teeth, Hair, and Eyes

Part Three- Sydney's POV  
  
Oh, God. Out of all the missions I've been on this was by far the most degrading.  
  
I was seated in an oversized pink armchair shaped like a heart. A crimson curtain separated the bachelors from me and me from them. As I looked around, I began desperately fiddling with the long, heavy sapphire earrings and smoothing out the shocking green summer dress SD-6 had supplied me with. I look like a lime. Seriously. And to top it off, a wavy shoulder length black wig. What guy would be happy to win a date with me looking like this was beyond me.  
  
Suddenly, a blinding light hit my face and I blinked furiously to regain sight. Applause rang out through the studio. We were recording.  
  
"Syd? Sydney? If you can hear me tuck your hair behind your ear," came Dixon's voice through the earring. I scanned the audience for him and saw him all the way in the back row. I could barely make him out.  
  
I smiled at the crowd and moved my hand up to place a few loose strands of shiny black wig hair behind my ear.  
  
"Good."  
  
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to 'Strike a Match,' California's most popular dating game!" the host called out. "I'm your host, Max Dowd!"  
  
More applause.  
  
"Let's meet today's contestants! First, our lovely bacheloret is a freshman at Los Angeles University grad school and a major in marine biology. Please give a round of applause for Lizzie Cohen!"  
  
Jeez, he made marine biology sound like a cure for cancer or something. And where did SD-6 come up with a cover like that anyway? Did I strike them as the kind of person who wanted to spend her life with fish? No offense to those people, of course.  
  
But I hid my discomfort, smiled brilliantly, and gave the cheering audience a small wave.  
  
Max continued. "Now, as you know, we like to keep the bachelors' identities a secret from the bachlorett until the end of the show, so as usual we've supplied them with nick names based on a characteristic we found most recognizable. So, please welcome bachelor #1, 'Pearly Whites!'"  
  
Whistles from the audience. He must be very cute. And he has nice teeth. Always a good sign.  
  
Vaughn had nice teeth.  
  
Oh, no. Don't start again, I warned myself.  
  
"Bachelor # 2, 'Sun Streaked!'"  
  
Hmm. So he has sun streaked hair. Nice. Vaughn had sun streaked hair.  
  
Shut up. Focus on the mission.  
  
"And, Bachelor #3, 'Emerald Eyes!'" Max exclaimed.  
  
Oh, he must be really cute, too. The whistles from the audience screamed in my ears.  
  
Vaughn had green eyes.  
  
Sydney, you're hopeless.  
  
While Max explained the rules, I heard a crackling from my earrings. "Sydney, we've pinpointed our guy. You need...pick...bachelor..." It cut off. "O...ay? And... careful. Bachelor... is...ar."  
  
Huh?  
  
I reached up and twisted the earring, trying to get the signal back. Instead, the earphone went completely dead. Great. Now I'd have to figure out which one was Angel Nunzeo myself.  
  
I should've guessed. This had disaster written all over it from the start.  
  
"Alright, Lizzie! You may begin with question one!"  
  
I grinned forcedly and picked up the opal heart shaped note cards my questions were written on. "Alright, Suitor 1, three how would you describe the ideal woman?" Man, this was lame.  
  
"Hmm... smart, brave, and honest."  
  
Honest. Oh, yeah. That's me. I never lie.  
  
Weird though. His speech sounded strained, as though he was trying to cover a stutter or a lisp. Hmm.  
  
"Thank you. Suitor 2, same question."  
  
"I'd have to say funny and nice. And pretty. But pretty on the inside as well as out Beauty is only skin deep, after all."  
  
Oh, gag me. What kind of answer is that?  
  
I forced a small smile. "Ok. Thanks. Suitor 3, if we fell in love and got married, where would our honeymoon be?"  
  
He waited a beat before answering. "Rome."  
  
That caught my attention. "Why is that?"  
  
"It's beautiful there. Everything's gorgeous," he explained. "And the restaurants aren't half bad either."  
  
The audience laughed. My heart skipped a beat. Vaughn had wanted to take me to a restaurant in Rome. After the Vatican... but he never did. And now he never will.  
  
I had to pull myself together.  
  
"Um, ok. Suitor 1, the same question?"  
  
"London. It's an amazing place to be. There's a variety of fascinating aspects to admire there."  
  
I nodded, tucking the answer away in my head with the rest to go over later.  
  
"Suitor 2, what's your favorite hobby?"  
  
"I enjoy art dealing."  
  
Art dealing... artifacts...  
  
Hmm. Suitor 2 was the only one who'd said anything suspicious so far. I made a mental note of that.  
  
"Suitor 3, same question."  
  
"Hockey," he answered quickly.  
  
Damn. Emerald Eyes was trying to torture me, wasn't he? He was doing a better job than the Asian dentist ever had.  
  
"We'll be right back to 'Strike a Match' after this brief word from our sponsors!" Max announced.  
  
Yes, commercial.  
  
God, between fiancées, old boyfriends, and potential new boyfriends being killed, my mom coming back, lying to my friends, my friends being tortured, and participating in a local game show, ever since that man approached me at UCLA my life has become a living hell. 


	4. Questioning

PART FOUR  
  
The commercial break ended all too soon. The lights flicked back on and the cheering returned, and I had to go back to my heart shaped note cards.   
  
"Welcome back to 'Strike a Match!' Are you ready for Round 2?" Max yelled.   
  
_No. Seriously, no. _  
  
"The rules of round 2 are the same as round one, with one small twist. The guys get 30 seconds each to ask the girl! Pearly Whites, we'll start with you. Ready... go!"  
  
"Pearly Whites" cleared his throat and began. "Right. Um, Bachelorett, if you had a fight with someone, would you give them another chance at friendship?"   
  
I blinked. "Um, what did they do?"  
  
"Let's say they were on... er... another side of an issue."  
  
I thought a moment. "Then, yeah."  
  
"Alright. Um, where do you hold employment?"  
  
His manner of speech was so strange.   
  
"I work at an aquarium," I replied, thinking fast.   
  
"Really? Which one?"  
  
_Bzzzzzzz._ A loud buzzing noise echoed throughout the stage.   
  
"Sorry, that's a half a minute!" Max called out.   
  
_Saved by the buzz. _  
  
Now thinking about it, Pearly Whites seemed somewhat suspicious too. Asking me questions about my job and being an enemy. I made a mental note of that.   
  
"Sun Streaked, 30 seconds! Aaannnnd... begin!"  
  
"Bachloret, I'd like to finish up suitor one's question. Where do you work?"  
  
I cringed. "Los Angeles Children's Aquarium."  
  
"What do you do there?" he pressed.   
  
"I give tours," I answered a bit lamely.   
  
"Marine Biology in grad school's a pretty heavy thing. However do you manage that and a job giving tours for what I'm guessing is a decent amount of hours?"  
  
I didn't like this guy. Not one bit.  
  
"It's not easy but I work as hard as I can and somehow, I get by."  
  
The buzzer sounded. Emerald Eyes's turn. Finally.   
  
"Alright, I'm sure you know what to do by now, E.E. Mind if I call you E.E.?"  
  
Emerald Eyes laughed nervously. "No, it's ok," he replied.   
  
"Alright then, E.E. Start!"  
  
"Bacheloret, if you were attracted to a person, would you tell them?"   
  
I almost choked on the air I was breathing. "I guess that depends. What are the circumstances?"  
  
"Any circumstances, even dangerous ones. Would you tell?" he asked again, the familiarity in his voice unrealistic.   
  
"Um... yeah. Yeah I think that as long as I made sure no one was in danger, when the time was right I would tell," I answered honestly.   
  
If Vaughn was alive, I know I would've told him someday that I felt an attraction. That I wasn't in love or anything, but my feelings were growing stronger all the same.   
  
He had time for one more question. "Do you like Slush-O's? Cause they're delicious." The audience chuckled.   
  
I caught my breath again. Was it possible? Was it even logical to think... could he... no. No.   
  
_He's dead. You saw him drown with your own eyes, __Sydney__. _  
  
"I've...I've actually never had one."  
  
_Bzzz. _  
  
"Time's up, E.E. When we return, the bacheloret will ask her final questions and choose the lucky man!"  
  
I took the five minute commercial break to go over things.   
  
I knew that Emerald Eyes was not Angel. He was too perfect, too familiar... too Vaughn. If he hadn't died, I would actually believe it was Vaughn. But I knew it wasn't possible. Michael Vaughn and a part of my soul drowned in Taipei almost three weeks ago.   
  
Pearly Whites and Sun Streaked, on the other hand, were equally seemingly guilty. I wasn't sure which to suspect. I figured I'd go through the last round and play it by ear.   
  
When the show returned, I began again.   
  
"Suitor One, What year of wine do you prefer?" I asked, wondering how the hell the writers came up with these. How do you judge your 'soul mate' by a year of wine?  
  
"1982," he answered thoughtfully.   
  
"Suitor 2, would you ever commit a crime?"  
  
"Well, I don't know. If it was for the good of someone else, maybe. But just because I felt like causing trouble? No."   
  
I was thinking this was the guy.   
  
"Suitor 3, where would you take me on our first date?"  
  
"Besides Rome?" he joked. I smiled. "A Kings' hockey game."  
  
My blood ran cold. I almost dropped the microphone.   
  
It was him. It had to be. But... that wasn't possible, was it?  
  
"Bacheloret?" a voice broke my thoughts. "Bacheloret, you still have five minutes left to ask your questions."  
  
"Right. Um, sorry. Thank you, Suitor Three. Suitor One, where do you work?"  
  
"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," he answered in a serious tone. The audience giggled nervously, unsure.   
  
This was the guy. It had to be. Or... was it?  
  
"Seriously though," he continued, "I work as an intern at a recording studio while I work my way through college."  
  
I sighed, still not completely convinced. Anyone can lie. "Suitor One, what kind of music do you lie?" I shook my head quickly and recovered. "I mean like. What kind of music do you like?"  
  
"Anything that speaks my emotions." What. A load. Of bull. Ha.   
  
After stifling my laughter, I took a deep breath and braced myself for my last question to Emerald Eyes. I looked down at my cards and read, "What would you do if you felt something for someone but weren't sure if they returned the feeling?"  
  
He sighed, almost regretfully into the mike. "I don't really know. In fact, it's kind of happening now. To tell the truth, I, um, haven't done much about it. Our lives are complicated and I'm not sure it would work out anyway."  
  
Oh, God. What if it was him? What if he was talking about me? What if it was him... and he wasn't? What if, and this was most likely, it wasn't him at all and I was winding myself up for some slightly balding blackjack dealer with combat boots and tortoise shell glasses? That would be just my luck.   
  
Max broke my thoughts again. "Alright, Lizzie. You've had the chance to get to know each bachelor a little bit. Now... who's it gonna be?"  
  
I took a deep breath and leaned towards the microphone, not sure of what to do. I had a good idea of who the guy I was looking for was but... still. I squeezed my eyes shut and announced, in a loud, clear tone much more confident than I was feeling, "I choose bachelor number..."  
  
**TO BE CONTINUED...**  
  
Ok admit it. How much do you all hate me and want to kill me right now? lol. But just a reminder- if you're not happy with the ending I post first, there's still gonna be two alternate endings. Sydney will end up picking a different guy in each ending so everyone's happy. lol. But only one of the endings is what *really* happened. That'll be the last one I post though. So... who will "Lizzie" pick first? Who is the mysterious 'Pearly Whites?' Will Sydney follow her heart and choose EE? Find out next time on 'Strike a Match!' lol now review and tell me how much you hate me for the cliffhanger.   
  



	5. Ending Number One,,, This is the way it ...

Part Five A- Ending Number One  
  
This is the way it could've happened.  
  
I squeezed my eyes shut and announced, in a loud, clear tone much more confidant than I was feeling, "I choose Bachelor number. one!"  
  
One? What made me say that?  
  
I trusted my instinct. My instinct told me that no matter how much Emerald Eyes seemed like Vaughn, Pearly Whites was the guy I needed to get. I had to follow through with the mission.  
  
"Alright! Congratulations Pearly Whites! But, before we reveal the chosen man to the bacheloret, let's introduce her to the other bachelors!" Max suggested.  
  
I crossed my fingers.  
  
A screen lit up on the side of the stage, showing a person in the second chair.  
  
"Bachelor number two is a graduate from University of San Diego and has hopes to become a doctor. Please give a round of applause for Christopher Cellins!"  
  
Cheering followed, and I looked up at the screen. Christopher Cellins was okay looking, I guess. Hazel eyes, tanned skin, and obviously, sun streaked brown hair. He might have been Angel, he might not have been. Hopefully he wasn't. Hopefully I'd made the right decision by going with Pearly Whites.  
  
No. The right decision would've been Emerald Eyes.  
  
But. I had to go with the mission. My counter mission, of course, would be to give Angel over to the CIA and tell Sloane that he'd escaped from me. He could be holding valuable information that would really help us.  
  
They were introducing Emerald Eyes now.  
  
I was anxious to see the slightly balding, combat boot and tortoise shell glasses wearing guy I'd had a mental heart attack over.  
  
Mental heart attack? Is that even possible?  
  
Note to self: find a correct meaning for mental heart attack' so that I don't look back and feel dumb for that thought later.  
  
"Please say 'hello' to the real Emerald Eyes, French born Michael Vaughn!"  
  
Michael who? Who Vaughn???  
  
Vaughn? What? Where? Where's Vaughn?  
  
Emerald Eyes is Vaughn. Oh. Wait. Emerald Eyes is Vaughn?  
  
Emerald Eyes is Vaughn?!  
  
EMERALD EYES IS VAUGHN! VAUGHN IS ALIVE, NOT DEAD! ALIVE!  
  
Agent Michael C. Vaughn is alive! And here! Right here! My heart was beating like a jackhammer. I couldn't believe this. It couldn't be happening. And yet it was. How.?  
  
WHY DIDN'T I PICK HIM???????????  
  
'Cause I'm a moron, that's why.  
  
'Hello Sydney, this is the idiot police calling. We're taking you under arrest. Why? Because you completely screwed your chance of any public relationship with Vaughn that you could've had, that's why. People are allowed to be stupid, but you're abusing the privilege.'  
  
Max continued. "And, the winner, Pearly Whites, Marc Abrams! Come on out, Marc. Lizzie, stand with your back facing the curtain."  
  
When does this torture end? Marc Abrams wasn't Vaughn, so at this point who cared?  
  
I stood though. Only ten more minutes, Sydney. Ten minutes then it's over.  
  
A second later, I felt someone behind me.  
  
"Alright, Lizzie. Turn around and meet your match!"  
  
I spun around and upon doing so, I found myself staring into a familiar pair of ice blue eyes. I gasped, my heart pounding even harder, if that's possible. I didn't think I could take any more surprises today.  
  
He smirked, and out of the corner of his mouth muttered, "Well, Miss Bristow, we meet again."  
  
TWENTY MINUTES LATER- OUTSIDE THE STUDIO  
  
Still trying to get over two rounds of utter shock, I pulled my keys out of my purse and headed towards my car.  
  
Everything came together now. Pearly Whites had not been trying to cover a speech impediment; he'd been covering his English accent. That also explained his love for London and his mysterious answers. I remembered what Dixon had said over the microphone, ".areful. bachelor.is.ar." He had been saying, "Be careful. Bachelor one is Sark." How could I not have seen it coming?  
  
Just as I was about to turn the key on my car door, I felt a warm hand grab my arm and pull me. I glanced up and saw Vaughn, the man I only forty- five minutes ago thought was dead.  
  
He led me silently into an alleyway behind the studio. When we knew no one was around, I thought we'd start talking.  
  
We didn't. We remained silent, not making eye contact, pretending to be looking for tails.  
  
Finally I spoke up, "So. is blind dating a hobby of corpses?"  
  
"Sydney-"  
  
"You were alive. You were alive the whole time and you made me believe you were gone. Do you know what that was like for me? And then to come here and find out 'Hey, my handler is here already kicking back and dating on shallow game shows while his former agent is out there on the brink of calling in Barnett to help her deal with this?' Were you really that happy to get away from me?" I spat out.  
  
His eyes narrowed. "Hey, I didn't exactly want to do this! And I don't see you at home mourning over me. You're here too! Don't you think I was kind of freaked out too when I saw it was you I'd been answering questions to for the past thirty minutes?"  
  
"Look at me, Vaughn!" I gestured to my wig and outfit. "Does it look like I'm here for fun? That's right, 'Jade Eyes.' I'm here on a mission."  
  
"Emerald Eyes," he murmured.  
  
"What?"  
  
He looked up and repeated, "It was Emerald Eyes, not Jade Eyes. Or were you too busy scamming on Sark to notice?"  
  
"How immature are you? I picked him because I thought he was the guy I needed to get on this mission. I screwed up though. And it's your fault, I'll have you know. You distracted me. And I didn't want to pick Sark, I wanted to pick." I trailed off, realizing. "I didn't want to pick Sark."  
  
"Look, Syd, I'm sorry. I really am. And it's great that we had the chance to do something in public, and we got to see each other again. But I can't. I have to go. Have fun on your date."  
  
I reached out for his hand to bring him back. "Vaughn, wait. I didn't mean to."  
  
"I have to go, Syd. I'll try and see you later."  
  
He turned and left the alley as I watched with slightly wet eyes.  
  
THAT NIGHT~ Outside Splendora Pasta  
  
"Well, congratulations, Bristow. Well played game today. I had a memorable time here tonight," Sark commented that night after the 'date' we'd won. We spoke in hushed tones so no one entering or exiting the restaurant could here.  
  
"Glad you had fun. And now that I've successfully survived the evening with you without regurgitating, I think I deserve an explanation of what you were doing on that show. Besides destroying my mission and hurting someone I care about," I demanded.  
  
"Well, Nunzeo happens to be important to us as well. He holds information that we need and can't have you getting. We knew you'd be trying to get him, but we have much less. public ways to get information from him. So our only concern was to keep you from getting to him first. That's when I got my assignment."  
  
'We.' By 'we' he meant the group my mother controlled. But I didn't care right then. "SD-6 is looking for you. Give me one reason why I shouldn't tie you up and take you to Sloane right now."  
  
"Because, Miss Bristow, though it might be slightly amusing to even see you try, I'm afraid it might cause a bit of suspicion in the restaurant," he answered coolly. Suddenly, a phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket. "Hello? Ah, good evening, Penny dear. Yes. Yes, love you too. See you in a moment then." He snapped the phone shut and put it back in his pocket.  
  
He smiled brilliantly, showing off the teeth he'd been nick named for. "Well, I best be off then. Hope to see you again."  
  
I blinked, about to ask what he meant, when the roaring of a motorcycle cut me off. It stopped in front of us and a girl just a little younger than Sark hopped off.  
  
"Oh, hi. I'm Penny Lane. You must be Sydney. How nice it is to meet you. You know, Zachary is always in such a huff about you," the girl told me as Sark put his arm around her. She handed him a helmet and walked towards the bike. He followed and got on before her. She climbed on and put her arms around his waist as he started it up.  
  
"Goodbye, Bristow. I'll say hello to your mother for you," he called as he turned the gas.  
  
I watched them speed off down the road, laughing as they turned down the street, out of sight from me.  
  
My phone rang, breaking my gaze. "Hello?"  
  
"Joey's Pizza?"  
  
"Wrong number."  
  
And I got into my car and drove off, ready to meet my real match.  
  
END OF ENDING NUMBER ONE  
  
A/N: Yep, that's the way it could've happened. And thanks to Pennylane who was actually the original one to come up with the idea for one of the bachelors to be Sark. Credit goes to her and to thank her, I made her dream come true as Sark's girlfriend. Lol. You guys like ending one? Ending two will be up soon. Oh, and for those of you reading this on ff.net who are confused, Penny Lane is an online friend on the sd-1.com boards who is madly in love with Sark. Lol. ( 


	6. Ending Number Two,,, It Also Could've Ha...

**Strike a Match- Ending Number 2**

_It also could've happened like this..._

"I choose bachelor number... three!" 

Yes, three. Three was the right choice. Three was so perfect and familiar. Screw the mission. 

I listened as Max introduced the other two contestants. 

Christopher Cellins and Marc Abrams. Either could've been Angel, but at this point I just didn't care. I didn't even bother looking at the screen to see what they looked like. 

All I cared about was seeing Emerald Eyes, and knowing that with my earring broken, no one could say I'd failed the mission on purpose. 

"Contestant number 3, please come stand with your back to Miss Cohen."

As I felt him come behind me, a familiar shiver ran up my spine. It was the feeling I got every time I laid my eyes on Vaughn in the warehouse. 

But Vaughn was dead. 

Obviously, Emerald Eyes was like, his spirit trying to communicate with me through another body or something. 

God damnit, Sydney. What is this, _Casper? _

"And say hello to your match, Michael Vaughn!"

I whirled around to meet the sparkling green eyes before I had the chance to comprehend what that name meant. 

And as we looked at each other, it fell hard into place. 

Vaughn's alive. 

A simple realization, two simple words. And yet they were so complicated, meant so much. It was all too much to let sink in right then and all I wanted to do was pull him towards me and hug him until my arms lost feeling. 

But we could show no recognition, no sign of the shock we were feeling. His trademark green eyes showed me he was just as surprised as I was. 

**THAT NIGHT- LA KINGS' HOME RINK**

The Kings scored a goal and we stood and cheered loudly. 

As we sat back down, I smiled and said, "Can you believe we're doing this? I mean... we're here. We're at the Kings game, and we don't have to worry about Sloane's flying monkeys coming to blow our brains out."

Vaughn smiled back and nodded. "Despite the unpleasurable image of Sloane in red and white tights and a pointed witch's hat that that _Wizard of Oz reference just permanently engraved in my mind, you're right. This is pretty amazing."_

I giggled and shook my head. 

I was having a genuinely great time. My life didn't leave much room for fun, so I hadn't had tons since that guy came up to me freshman year and said, "Hey, would you like to sign up to help destroy the world?" 

Ok, so that's a paraphrase. But he might as well have said that. 

We sat back down after clapping for another goal and I felt a sudden warm tingle circulate from my hand up to my arm. I glanced down and saw that Vaughn had rested his hand on mine. 

I turned and smiled at him. He smiled back at me and our eyes locked, then we faced the rink again to watch the game. 

When the game was over, we headed outside to talk. 

The first thing that happened was Vaughn telling me that Pearly Whites had been Sark. I was shocked. How could I have missed that? Apparently he'd been assigned to stop me from finding Angel. He'd succeeded, but not really in the way he'd expected. 

After that we stood in silence. Finally I spoke up. "So... tonight was pretty unforgettable. Really."

He nodded in agreement. "We should do it again sometime."

"Vaughn, you know we can't-" I stopped short, realizing. "But... if SD-6 believed we just happened to meet on the show..."

He grinned and nodded, finishing the sentence with his eyes. 

This was beyond amazing. This was like... something truly dramatic happening on 7th Heaven for once amazing. Except that's impossible. This was really happening. 

"I guess we can thank my mother for this," I commented suddenly as we walked to Vaughn's car, hand in hand. 

"What?" he asked. 

"Think about it. If my mother hadn't separated us in Taipei and made me believe you were dead, I wouldn't have let Devlin suspend you as my handler. Then you wouldn't have been talked into this by Eric and we wouldn't be in this situation."

Vaughn gave me an odd look as he opened the car door. "Sydney, did anyone ever tell you that your thought process is completely distorted?"

"Hey, I'm serious!" I laughed, shutting the door. 

While he drove me home, we talked about everything but work. Turns out Vaughn has a secret infatuation with watching Nick at Night.

"I like _Gilligan's__ Island!" he protested as I giggled. _

"Yeah, that and you have a crush on Sam from _Bewitched."_

He didn't answer, but a blush quickly spread across his face while he stared at the road ahead. 

I gasped. "Oh my God. No way!"

This guy was full of surprises. 

This was a beginning. As we drove through the night with the California wind streaming through my hair, I felt it. 

Something was starting, or maybe it was just that something that had always been there was being discovered. 

Whatever it was, the feeling of wonder and excitement, I couldn't wait to explore it. 

Thank God for dating game shows. I always knew I liked them. 

...What? Degrading, lame, and superficial? I never said that!

You must've gotten me confused with someone else. After all, a game like 'Strike a Match' can change everything. 

And from the way things feel now, it's for the better. 

END POSSIBLE ENDING TWO

A/N: You expected this to be the real ending, didn't you? Just goes to show, even the biggest shippers can surprise you. But don't get too upset, because the real eding will also include some nice shppery stuff. :-D


	7. Ending Number Three,,, But This is the W...

**Strike a Match Ending Three~**

_But this is the way it really happened…_

"I choose bachelor number… two!"

Two was Nunzeo. I knew it. I felt it. It was true. 

No matter what my true desires were, what my heart told me to do; I had to complete the mission. I had to bring down SD-6. If not for me, then for Danny and Vaughn and all the others who lost their lives to the demon. 

I could go through the details of what happened next, but I don't want to bore you, so I'll give you the quick version. 

Pearly Whites= Sark

Emerald Eyes= Vaughn. 

Sydney Bristow= The single most oblivious and moronic spy to ever grace the planet. 

My reaction to this scenario? 

Let's just say that my first thought when I saw Sark's face was, "That damn son of a…"

My first thought when I heard Vaughn's name, "Mental note: Call the repair man to fix the dent in my bedroom desk that will soon be created due to numerous head bangings in the very, very near future."

I managed to calm myself down enough to be happy that phase one of the mission was completed, but that didn't mean I wasn't exuberant and bewildered at Vaughn's appearance. 

I had no idea how I could face him again. But, judging by his absence for the past weeks, I wouldn't have to worry about that. 

 **Hong Kong Buffet, Los Angeles~ That night **

"So, how did you get involved with marine biology?" Angel asked over his lo mein. 

I twirled a strand of "my" long black hair. The wig was beginning to itch and it was burning my scalp. 

"Oh, I don't know. Just grew on me, you know? He he," I answered in the high pitched, giggling voice I'd reserved for my character. 

This is the way the night had preceded. He'd ask some "personal" question, and I would giggle and give a ditzy response, one which never really answered his inquiry. 

Example:

"Lizzie, what's you favorite movie?"

"Hmm…" (More hair twirling and a deep-in-thought expression) "Dawson's Creek."

***

Finally, he led me outside.

Grinning widely, I grabbed his wrist. My hand felt the same way it would if I had been tossing out a dead rat by its tail. 

"Let's go somewhere… more private," I whispered, feeling sick. 

We ducked into an alleyway and after a simple bat of the eyes; I had him in my manipulation. That was too easy. I'd hate to have to think of the kind of agent he must've made. 

"I want to tell you something…" I cooed. 

He leaned in closer, and I belted him in the stomach. I pulled a set of hand cuffs out of my purse and locked his hands in them. 

"What the hell?!" he exclaimed. 

"Did you really believe I was a marine biologist, Angel Nunzeo? Well, sorry, I'm not you're girl. But there's plenty of other fish in the sea," I winced, pained at the horrible pun I'd just made. 

I sighed, shook my head, and knocked him unconscious. He'd be out for a few hours. 

This time, _[i]he[/i] was the dead drop. That's right. I put him in the dumpster. _

Quigley… (Ahem. Wheeze. Choke. Gag.) 

Oh, sorry. I had a piece of dim-sun caught in my throat…

Anyway, Quigley would come disguised as a trash man in five minutes or so to retrieve Angel and take him into CIA custody. I had a cover story to tell SD-6 as to why I'd failed to get Nunzeo. 

I pulled off the wig and threw it out as well, then headed back to the outside of the restaurant.

I gasped. 

Vaughn was walking down the sidewalk. 

He saw me. 

He smiled and came towards me. 

What did he think he was doing? 

"Hey… aren't you the girl I was on the show with today?" he asked casually. 

_ What… _

"Yes… Lizzie Cohen…" I answered, confused. 

"Michael Vaughn. Excuse me for asking, but wasn't your hair darker this morning?"

I nodded, now not as unsure. "Yeah- I like to experiment with the color."

"Ah." He tried to look surprised at the fact that I was alone. "Date with the winner not go so well?"

"You could say that. He um… he had a trashy personality."

What was is with the God damned puns tonight? 

Vaughn laughed. "Oh… well, if you're free now, do you want to go do something? I know you ate but maybe we can catch a movie. I know I didn't win but…"

"Oh, it's fine. I'd love to." 

We began to walk the three blocks towards the movie theater. 

Once we were out of anyone's view, he took my hand. "So… what are we seeing?"

Apparently, he's not one to talk about work in these situations. Good. Me either. 

"Um… if you're in the mood for something immature, 'Stealing Harvard' is out."

He chuckled. "The movie with that guy from 'Mallrats'?" 

I gave him an unclear look. 

"Weiss loves that movie," he added quickly. 

"Ah. Didn't see you as that type of guy."

"I'm not. Mallrats is okay but… it is so unrealistic."

"Why is that?"

"This girl goes on a dating game show and the guy who really likes her goes on with a fake name and ends up with her at the end. That kind of thing never happens in real life." He sent me a wink. 

I laughed. 

Is this what the slogan meant by "choose your fate"?

I hope so. 

We didn't know what would happen next, or if it would be good or bad; if it would be easy or hard. We just knew it would be. 

I guess we'd just have to tune in next time for "Strike a Match," California's most popular dating game. 

**THE END (FOR REAL, THIS TIME. SERIOUSLY.)**

A/N: So, this story's come a pretty good distance since I first posted it in August. Honestly, I had no idea it would do this well. I thought it would be shrugged off and shoved to the back page. But I was proved wrong, and I'm really happy about that. (Even though I still have no idea why people liked this. Lol) Thank you to everyone who read this and enjoyed it and a special thanks to Penny and Elyse for helping me out tons with some of the plot lines. (Penny- did you like your "Mallrats" ending?)


	8. Epilogue

A/N: Hey guys... I know it's been like... 10 months since I ended this. Lol. But I saw that Dating Game fic up and I got this sudden idea for an epilogue so... I hope you guys remember this. Enjoy :-)

Oh, and remember. This story was written post Almost Thirty Years. So Vaughn had been suspended, Sydney had thought he was dead, the Alliance still existed... yeah, read the rest of the fic. Refresh your memory. Lol. 

**Strike a Match~ Epilogue **

~One Week After the Show~

*Vaughn POV*

"So, how are things going with Sydney?" Weiss asked me while I shuffled through the pages of an extremely long debrief. 

"What do you mean by that?" 

"I think you know exactly what I mean," Weiss insisted. 

"You ask it like we're a couple or something," I commented. 

My friend widened his eyes in mock surprise. "You're not?" he gasped. 

"Shut up. Of course we're not." 

"Mike, I thought the whole point of these dating game show things were to stay with the girl if you like her."

"I'm going to go out on a ledge here and assume that most people who go on those moronic shows aren't double agents and their supposedly dead CIA handler," I pointed out. 

"Well, I guess you've got a point there," Weiss admitted, and went back to his work, and me to mine. For a few minutes I thought he'd leave me alone. 

I'm too optimistic sometimes. 

"So you haven't even kissed her yet?" he pried like a teenage girl. 

"Eric, look at me," I instructed, facing him. 

"Yeah, you're perfectly misshapen. So?"

I ignored his insult and continued. "Do I look that happy to you?"

"Well damn it, Mike, what are you waiting for? A chorus and an arrangement of dancers to pop out perform 'Kiss the Girl' dressed as little red lobsters and blue and yellow fish?" 

"Nothing quite that extreme," I answered. "The destruction of SD-6, maybe?"

Weiss rolled his eyes. "Man, it's so perfect. After the whole show thing Devlin reassigned you as her handler. You see her all the time, and now you can see her in public. How long are you going to stall this?" 

I put down the folder and placed it neatly at the corner of my desk, then picked up the next stack of papers I was expected to fill out. "How long before you leave me alone?" 

He frowned in a very parent-like manner and stared at me. "Mike," he said simply, as though the one syllable statement would convince me to do something as incredibly insane as decide play tonsil hockey with the double agent I'm handling. 

"Mike," he said again, after my silence. No. I am not going to give in. I'm going to be strong, responsible, by the book Michael Vaughn. I am not letting Weiss bait me into his adolescent little ploys just by saying my name.  

Oh, screw it. I'm convinced. Hell, we went on a date. We held hands. We hugged when it was over. I can do this. Next time I see her, I'm kissing her. I'm going to take her by the arms, pull her over, and kiss her as if we were the inventors of tonsil hockey. 

Shit. Weiss is too damn good at that.

Finally, he left my office, whistling the tune of the familiar Disney song as he shut the door behind him. I threw a crumpled paper ball at him. It missed. He grinned and gave me a thumbs up through the window then walked away.  

***

"...so the Angel Nunzeo operation ended up really slowing down SD-6 after all," Sydney was saying as we stood in the chilly frozen section of the supermarket. She headed for produce as we talked. 

"Um, right..." I answered distantly, not really listening to the question. I was mildly distracted (mildly... ahem) eyeing Sydney and the way she rolled each orange around in her palms before dropping it in the clear plastic bag at her arm. She kept her brown eyes down, avoiding my gaze and keeping herself turned slightly away from me. 

"Syd," I said quietly. 

"Yeah?"

"You're allowed to acknowledge me, remember? We met on a TV show..." I supplied, smiling a little as she looked up and realized what she'd been doing. 

"Oh yeah... I know... I'm just so used to it by now. Old habits die hard, I guess." 

She grinned at me, and her whole face suddenly glowed and her eyes sparkled. I smiled back at her, probably looking like a complete dork. And I knew I was right then, because I'd used the word 'dork' in my own mind. 

Sydney placed the bag of oranges in her shopping basket after skillfully pulling a tight knot in it, then took a step towards the shelf of salads behind me. I turned at the same time and suddenly, we were really close. And I mean 8th- grade- graduation- dance-"God Must Have Spent a Little More Time on You"- close. 

And that's when a little annoying voice started to sing in the back of my head, sounding astoundingly like an irritating cross of Sponge Bob Square Pants and Weiss. Oh God, this is so not a good time. Stop it, you damn voices! Stop!

_ "There you see her, sitting there across the way. She don't got a lot to say but there's something about her. And you don't know why but you're dying to try. You wanna kiss the girl." _

Maybe it was because of the bump that had grown on my head this morning after I'd smacked into a filing cabinet, but I suddenly could make out the shapes of little crimson lobsters with Weiss's face dancing around me in circles and snapping their claws as they sang. 

Apparently, Sydney couldn't see them. She just saw me. And through the small imaginary critters, I could see her better than ever. 

_ "Yes, you want her. Look at her, you know you do. Possible she wants you too, there is only one way to ask her. It don't take a word, not a single word. Go on and kiss the girl." _

I knew Sponge Bob Square Weiss wasn't planning on shutting up any time soon. This was all on me now. 

"Syd..." I whispered, my throat suddenly choked. 

She moved her gaze to meet mine. "Vaughn?" 

Very slowly, as though time itself was freezing among the popsicles and ice cream cartons, I reached out my hand. Finally, it grazed the skin on her cheek. Tentatively, I moved forward, waiting for her acceptance. 

She pulled away just a little, placing her hand on mine and removing it from her face, linking it with her own. "Not here..." she whispered, and put down her basket. She tugged slightly and led me outside to a small alleyway by the supermarket. 

"So..." I began. 

"So..." she repeated quietly, looking up at me with expectant eyes. 

"So... this will change things..." I pointed out, not sure if it was the right moment to be mentioning that. 

Sydney placed a cool hand at the back of my neck and her eyes filled with sincerity. "For the better."

I smiled a little and put my hand to her cheek again, and we slowly leaned towards each other. My eyes closed, and I felt her lips touch mine.

_ "Don't stop now. Don't try to hide it how you wanna kiss the girl. Whoa- whoa. Sha la la la la la. Float along, and listen to the song. The song say kiss the girl. Sha la la la la. The music play, do what the music say. You gotta kiss the girl."_

It could have been hours. That's what it felt like. But I knew it was only a few minutes. Either way, it wasn't nearly long enough. I could have easily enjoyed having her lips pressed against mine forever. 

But finally, we broke apart and very slowly, eyes still closed, moved our faces away from each other. I opened my eyes unhurriedly and smiled widely at her, keeping my hand at her cheek. 

"Wow..." she whispered. 

"Took the words out of my mouth," I breathed right before I stole her lips again. 

***

That night, Sydney and I sat side by side on my couch. Her head lay on my shoulder and my right arm was around her. With my left hand, I surfed through the channels. 

"Hey, this one looks pretty good..." Sydney commented laughingly. I grinned and left the station on. 

"Welcome to Strike a Match, California's most popular dating game! I'm your host, Max Dowd!" the man on the TV blared. Oh, God. Those first five minutes of the show hadn't been the best of my life. But look what it had brought. 

"Can you believe something so good came out of that horrifying experience?" I wondered aloud suddenly. 

Sydney smiled up at me. "I almost can't." She leaned up at kissed me softly, then we settled in again and returned out gaze to the television where Sean was introducing the contestants. 

"And Bachelor number three, Eric Weiss!" 

Ok. O.K. I couldn't have heard that... I defiantly heard that wrong. No freaking way. 

But then I looked down at Sydney, who looked as wide eyed as I did. 

We silently looked back at the screen. There it was. Plain as day. My best friend sitting on one of those damn pink stools, grinning foolishly at the audience and waving. 

Simultaneously, Sydney and I groaned. 

"Not again..." 

END

***

A/N: Yeah... weird. Lol. Hopefully good though. I hope those of you who enjoyed the rest of the fic liked this, too. :-D And, as always, thanks to Penny for all of your help! You rock, Hun! 


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